tonight i had a date. actually it is my third date with a nice southern boy in law school. i was excited about the date, and not because of the slightly explicit text messages sent on the car ride back from montreal last week, but because this boy is great.
so i prepare for the date...sort of. i took a nap in my underwear and tee shirt in front of two fans with my cat because vermont suddenly decided to go through an identity crisis and become the desert or something. then i dressed in a great cute outfit of cords, flip flops and a casual, yet dressy, sweater which i bought yesterday for six dollars. i drive to montpelier. we selected montpelier because it is equodistant from both our homes. and we picked a nice restaurant which i will never be able to go to again.
things are going great. i arrive early. grab a seat at the bar, order a beer, listen in on my neighbors conversation and play on my cell phone. my date arrives and we get shown to the back of the restaurant to a nice table for two. i choose the seat where i was facing out - mistake one. we chat. he tells me horrible date stories. i tell him i do not have any, which was still true up to that point. we continue with conversation and i notice a slight tickle in my throat. "well there is nothing more soothing than a sip of beer," i internally boast. right - mistake two.
the microsecond that fuzzy shit hits the back of my throat i cough. and not a nice gentle beer spilling onto my lap cough - no - i make the mistake of trying to hold it in. this causes the beer to shoot through my pursed lips and go directly into my dates face, the guy sitting behind him's meal and the guy sitting adejacent to me side. beer became my enemy. i immediately turn four hundred shades of red and start sweating like a monsoon in thailand. seriously the shit is pooring off of me. i immediately apologize to everyone around me offering to buy them anything. internally i just want to run. run like forest gump who obviously was more intelligent than i could ever dream of being.
what do you do? dying simply was not an option as my heart decided that it also wanted to join my throat in tormenting me. the butter knives are dull. the table is too small to hide behind. there is no escape and less of a chance of saving face.
amazingly my date laughs this all off. probably because he also ran the odds and could find no way out. the date continues. i recover slowly only to be constantly reminded by the snide comments of the jerk sitting behind my date. i look at my fork and imagine it sticking out of his neck after he makes some mocking gay gesture (apparently after major public embarassment my tolerance for ignorance and gay bashing is low). finally he leaves.
"i can salvage this night the best way i know how," my brain tells me. "i'll pay for dinner," my mouth tells my date. all is good. this too can be forgiven by simply throwing money at it. at least i am classy enough to pay for dinner after i spew beer all over his face. i hand my card to the waitress. she returns without the slip. apparently after two failed attempts to run my card she gave up. i of course have no other form of payment. apparently god hates me.
my date pays.